


Late Nights

by fragments_and_pieces



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11386308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragments_and_pieces/pseuds/fragments_and_pieces
Summary: It’s one of those nights, long and tiring, plagued by a restless mind and too-loud thoughts, all swimming around and trying to shove their way to the surface. It makes Hanzo feel trapped, claustrophobic, anxious. He needs a distraction.He wonders if McCree is awake.





	Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Not too sure how I feel about this but here ya go, enjoy some fluffy McHanzo ;)

Hanzo sighs as he opens his eyes to stare into the darkness above him. He feels as though he’s been been trying to fall asleep for hours, but when he rolls over to face his alarm clock, he shocked to find it’s just after two in the morning. He sighs again.

 

It’s one of those nights, long and tiring, plagued by a restless mind and too-loud thoughts, all swimming around and trying to shove their way to the surface. It makes Hanzo feel trapped, claustrophobic, anxious. He needs a distraction.

 

There's a book lying abandoned on his bedside table, an intriguing Japanese novel that he’s about halfway through, but he’s too tired to focus on the words.

 

He wonders if McCree is awake.

 

The thought doesn't surprise him as much as it would've a few months prior. He and McCree have grown increasingly close since Genji had introduced them after the recall.

 

The man was ridiculous, a complete opposite from Hanzo, but somehow they ended up getting along just fine. It took a while for Hanzo to warm up to him (though, honestly, it took Hanzo a while to warm up to  _ everyone;  _ he wasn't the most social to begin with, and most of them knew what he had done to Genji - including McCree - but had eventually decided that if Genji could forgive him, so could they). McCree had been persistent and the two became fast friends.

 

(And Hanzo would by lying if he said he didn't wish Jesse could be more than a friend. The man’s ruggedly attractive looks had drawn him in - not to mention the cowboy get-up - and Jesse made him feel  _ wanted,  _ something he hadn't felt in a long time. It hurt to know Jesse could never feel the same.)

 

McCree was likely to be awake, despite the time. He had sleepless nights, the same as Hanzo, and more often than not they’d seek each other out and spend their late nights together. Sometimes they'd watch movies, grainy old westerns or Japanese dramas with subtitles Jesse found hard to follow. Sometimes they’d talk about everything and anything, from their pasts to their futures, from their demons to some of their happier memories, but sometimes they’d just sit in silence, content in each other’s company. (And sometimes, on particularly bad nights, they’d drink, and if a few tears were shed, they’d never mention it.)

 

It only takes Hanzo a few minutes to put his prostheses on, the motion practiced, easy to do even in the dark. He stands and stretches, then makes his way out into the hallway. It’s quiet, deserted - everyone on base is most likely asleep (though he wouldn't be surprised to see someone up and about; they all had their demons, after all). He reaches McCree’s room quickly enough, and only hesitates a moment before knocking.

 

Hanzo waits, but there is only silence behind the door. He begins to question if he really should've come - maybe McCree is actually asleep, for once. He knocks once more for good measure, louder this time, and hears sudden shuffling from inside, a bang, and heavily stumbling towards the door. It slides open with a soft hiss and Hanzo can’t hide his surprise - McCree is standing there, half asleep, in his boxers and a rather tight fitting shirt. His prosthetic is missing. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he slurs, accent thick with sleep.

 

“I- I apologize,” Hanzo replies, trying to keep his eyes on McCree’s face and not the way his t-shirt clings to his frame, “I did not expect you to be asleep.”

 

“Hanzo?” Jesse rubs at his eyes, but looks a bit more awake once he realizes who’s standing at his door.

 

“Sorry for waking you,” Hanzo tells him, feeling guilty.

 

“You’re fine,” McCree says with a yawn. “Rough night?”

 

“Nothing I have not handled before,” he assures him. “I will see you tomorrow, McCree.” He turns to leave, but is stopped by a hand on his wrist.

 

“Now what kinda friend would I be if I turned ya away like that?” He lets his arm fall. “Wanna watch a movie?”

 

“I do not wish to trouble you,” Hanzo protests. McCree just smiles and pulls him into the room, flicking on the light as he does so. They both squint at the sudden brightness.

 

“Ain’t no trouble, c’mon.” The door closes quietly behind them. “Lemme just, ah-” McCree scoops a pair of crumpled sweatpants off the floor, struggling to pull them on with only one hand. “Any requests?”

 

It’s Hanzo’s turn to smile. He doesn't deserve a friend like McCree. “It does not matter to me,” he says, knowing McCree would chose another old western film if Hanzo didn't have a preference. Hanzo doesn't mind.

 

“Well, alright. Make yourself comfy,” McCree replies, motioning towards the bed, only to realize it’s a mess of tangled sheets and blankets. “Oh, uh, sorry-” He scrambles to fix it.

 

“It’s alright, McCree,” Hanzo tries to tell him, but he’s already spread the wrinkled blanket over the bed and adjusted the pillows.

 

“There,” McCree says, grinning.  _ “Now  _ make yourself comfy.”

 

“Thank you,” Hanzo says, sitting hesitantly on the bed and leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. The bed is still a bit warm from where McCree had been sleeping.

 

They're both quiet as Hanzo watches McCree set up the movie, definitely  _ not _ enjoying how the tight shirt makes his back muscles look. McCree turns off the lights on his way to the bed, climbing on next to Hanzo just has the title credits to another western pops onto the screen. “This is a good one,” he promises, grinning as he makes himself comfortable next to Hanzo.

 

“You say that about all of them,” Hanzo says, a smirk of his own growing.

 

“Only ‘cause it’s true.”

 

Hanzo chuckles.

 

It’s their first time watching a movie in one of their rooms; usually they watch in one of the old rec rooms. It has a much bigger TV and better sound system - a  _ must _ when it comes to movies, according to McCree.

 

McCree’s bed is the same size as Hanzo’s: plenty of room for one person, not quite meant for two - though you could make it work if you didn't mind a bit of a squeeze. When McCree finally settles down, their shoulders are touching, biceps pressed together. Hanzo thinks he likes this better than the couch in the rec room.

 

Hanzo is no stranger to McCree’s constant commentary during a movie (usually something like that would bother him, but it seems this is another thing Jesse is an exception to) but he’s rather quiet tonight, just a mumble here and there. Hanzo chalks it up to him being tired. McCree slouches down after a while, so his shoulder is now digging into Hanzo’s bicep. It’s annoying, but he doesn't tell McCree to move.

 

They’re maybe halfway through the movie when Hanzo feels a weight on his shoulder. He looks down, eyes softening when he finds McCree snoring quietly, face blank. Hanzo lets him stay. He still feels bad about waking McCree up in the first place, so it’s the least he can do. (McCree also looks incredibly cute like this, though Hanzo would never admit it.)

 

He only pays half-attention to the rest of the movie, instead focused on remaining as still as possible as to not wake McCree. Not long after, Hanzo feels himself start to doze - the warmth against his side, McCree’s soft breaths puffing on his shoulder, and the familiar sounds of southern drawls and ricocheting gunshots coming quietly from the TV all begin to lull him to sleep. He barely makes it to the end of the movie, eyes half-lidded as the credits start to roll.

 

Hanzo carefully turns his head to look down at McCree, still snoring peacefully on his shoulder. He’d be content to sit here all night and let the man sleep, but he knows McCree will have a sore neck if he stays in that position much longer. The movie’s over, and he has no reason to stay, so he figures he should wake McCree and leave, even though he doesn't want to.

 

“Jesse,” he says softly. McCree stirs, lifting his head slightly and glancing around the room before staring up at Hanzo with bleary, unfocused eyes. Hanzo thinks he looks adorable. “You fell asleep,” Hanzo informs him, but McCree doesn't answer, only blinks at him, so Hanzo moves to get up. “Thank you for the movie, I-” He’s stopped once again by warm fingers around his wrist. He turns to look at McCree.

 

“Stay?”

 

Hanzo’s heart skips a beat, and he suddenly feels a lot more awake. He’s too shocked to do anything other than stare at McCree with wide eyes.

 

Suddenly McCree pulls away, looking ashamed and hurt. “Sorry, I thought…” Hanzo realizes he must've been silent for too long, and that Jesse assumed he’d offended him.

 

“Alright,” Hanzo says, managing to sound a lot calmer than he feels. Jesse looks up in surprise, and Hanzo sends him a reassuring smile. “Just give me a moment.” He gestures to his legs as he sits back down on the bed. Jesse nods and busies himself with finding the remote to turn off the TV. Hanzo carefully places his prostheses on the floor as McCree maneuvers himself under the blanket. The bed creaks as Hanzo lays down to join him, faces inches apart.

 

Jesse smiles sleepily at him. “Night, Han,” he mumbles, eyes slipping shut.

 

“Good night,” Hanzo whispers.

 

Jesse’s breathing evens out again a minute later, soft puffs that remind Hanzo of a horse. Hanzo feels his own eyes start to droop, and he lets himself sleep, feeling warm, content, and  _ safe  _ for the first time in what seems like forever.

 

When he wakes the next morning, it takes Hanzo a moment to figure out where he is. When he notices that his head is cushioned on a chest, the memories of the night before come flooding back.

 

McCree shifts slightly, and Hanzo cranes his neck to look up at him. He’s greeted by warm amber eyes and the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.

 

“Mornin’,” Jesse says gently, almost like he's afraid that he’ll scare Hanzo away.

 

“Good morning,” Hanzo replies. “How did you sleep?”

 

“Good,” Jesse answers. “Real good. You?”

 

“Better than I have in a long time,” Hanzo tells him truthfully. Jesse’s eyes light up.

 

“Well, then, you're always welcome,” he offers, and though his tone is a bit shy Hanzo can tell he’s being genuine.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“‘Course.”

 

They lay in silence for a few minutes, still sleepy, simply soaking in each other’s warmth.

 

Jesse looks up in confusion when Hanzo props himself up on an elbow, and makes a soft, startled noise as Hanzo kisses him.

 

“Was that alright?” Hanzo asks when they part. Jesse’s cheeks are pink.

 

“That was more than alright, darlin’,” he says breathlessly, shooting Hanzo a dopey smile. “I could get used to that real quick.”

 

Hanzo chuckles and kisses him again.


End file.
